Forever and A Little Bit
by incestly
Summary: Della returns and needs comfort. She seeks it out in Donald, and old feelings surface.


Della was standing in front of Donald's room, already regretting getting out of bed to come here. It wasn't like she was sleeping or anything, it's just-Donald had enough on his plate, he didn't need her problems as well. Della tentatively puts her hand up to the door, questioning if it was really worth it to wake Donald up just because she can't sleep. The decision was taken out of her hands, however, when the door suddenly opened. Della made a noise of surprise, backing up a bit to see a bleary-eyed Donald in the doorway. He blinked, clearing his vision, before finally looking at her.

"Della?" he questions, his hand going up to rub the last bit of sleep out of his hands. Della was blushing now, looking down at feet. She hadn't even knocked, but she still woke him up. God. "What are you doing out here at..." He goes in his room for a second, then comes back out "...2:30 in the morning?"

Della just wants to run at this point, but Donald is giving her That Look. You know. The one where you can just feel the person pitying you. Or that's just her. Maybe.

"I...I just..." She wasn't going to cry. She wasn't going to break down. She wasn't.

She started crying. And then couldn't stop herself. Della had missed Donald so much, had missed just being around him and to talk to him. She had missed so many moments with him, so many birthdays and important things in both their lives they should have been celebrating together. It was too much at the moment, and she feels like she could collapse under the weight of her own feelings. She didn't see Donald move, but she felt his arms around her, and she let a confused noise. Donald was hugging her.

She wants to protest, to say he doesn't have to do this, but he only tightens the hug. Della sighs, leaning into the hug. She just...missed this. The nights where she would sneak into his room, and climb into his bed. Sometimes she would just watch him. And she knows that's a bit creepy, but Donald really wasn't the touch-y feel-y type as a kid, especially as a teenager. Now, it seems Donald is more open to affection, and for that she's grateful. She needs support right now.

Donald lets her sob on his shoulder for a bit, before pulling back so he can look at her in the face. Della knows she looks like a wreck, her feathers tear-stained now, her eyes red from crying so hard. Donald reaches his hand up to caress her check, and she lets a small gasp. She doesn't mean to...it just kinda happens. Della can feel her face heating up, and she hates it because it means he could notice.

Her feelings for Donald, she means.

They're something she has kept close to her chest for years. And something she doesn't want just out there all willy-nilly. Her feelings will come out when the time is right (which is preferably never).

Donald interrupts her thoughts by finally speaking. "Do want to sleep here? For old times sake, if nothing else?" His words spoken softly, like anything louder would break her. Della can't think of anything to say, so she just nods her head. Donald grabs her hand then (if her face could go any redder, it would) and lead her to the bed to sleep.

Della's running, but she doesn't know from what. She's never really sure, in her dreams. She's never looked behind, because she's scared of what she'll see. Herself? Some monstrous beast? Did it matter? By the dream, always, she was caught.

At the end of every dream, she dies.

And it seems it caught up already. It grabs her ankle, dragging her down. Della feels her beak open, feels herself about to scream-

She's shaken awake. "Della! Della! Hey!" Della opens her eyes slowly, taking shallow breaths all the while. It feels like she had run a marathon, like her lungs where going to collapse. She could sweat running down her back, her whole body felt like a furnace. She looks over at Donald, who's hands are on her shoulders and his face is filled with considerable worry. "You were...screaming. In your sleep." Oh. So that wasn't just in the dream.

"Sorry." Della apologizes, attempting to remove Donald's hand from her shoulders. She should've stayed in her room. Being here just caused trouble for him. Donald didn't think the same, apparently, as he positioned their bodies to where they're cuddling. Cuddling.

Okay, she would be lying if she said she didn't, didn't really wanna kiss him.

She did. Della just wanted to reach up and-

"You okay?" Della wants to say "yes", but she's always hated lying to him.

"I-I don't know." That's the best answer she could give, really. Donald sighs, pulling her closer to his chest.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No." Donald doesn't push it, just lets her nuzzle against his chest. Things might not be good now, but they might be someday.

That's enough for Della, for now.


End file.
